Demons of the Dancing Gods by Jack L. Chalker Page B

forces of
    Hell head on, yet he conjured up and used demons from the
    same place for his own purposes. He had fought the Dark Baron
    to a standoff, which had put him with the good guys, yet—
    had he fought for the same reasons as the rest of them? Or was
    he, in fact, taking on a rival challenger to his ambition of ruling
    the Council and the world? Certainly there were depths and
    layers to the sorcerer far beyond the funny fat man in opera
    clothes, depths and layers hidden by his wild personality.
    "Let's let it rest for now," Joe suggested. "I'm tired, weak,
    and dizzy and I feel that I could sleep for a month. But
    let's remember that we're only doing some work for the old
    boy. He doesn't own us, and we'll work for ourselves first.
    Okay?"
    She smiled at him, "Okay. You know, though, I—" She
    stopped in mid-thought, seeing that he had sunk back down
    into a more normal but very deep sleep. She got up and sighed,
    looking around. Let him sleep—he certainly needed it.
    Joe slept through most of the next day, and it was early
    evening by the time he woke up. He was sore and stiff and
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    DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS
    still felt terribly dry, but he managed to go through a series of
    exercises without doing too badly.
    His horse, he found, was dead and already stinking up the
    place. Marge or the kobolds had managed to get the saddlebags
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    Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
    off, though, and he found some salted fish and the few cakes
    remaining of the hard, extra-sweet Terdieran candy. It wasn't
    enough, but it would have to do for now.
    Marge's horse seemed to have come through the mountain
    crossing reasonably well, but he thought it best not to push her
    for another day or so. For now he'd repack the supplies into
    one load and let the horse carry that. He felt he could walk.
    He found what he could of dry wood and, with the flint
    from the packs, made a small fire. There was a rustling in the
    trees behind him and he turned warily, but it was only Marge,
    who'd apparently been asleep up in the tree.
    "How are you feeling?" she asked him, settling to the ground.
    "You look a mess!"
    He chuckled. "Oh, I'm okay. I think we ought to press on,
    even though it's dark. You can see pretty well around here,
    and my night vision's not all that bad. I've been looking at the
    map and I figure it's about forty miles to the main road, if we
    can go due west, then maybe another fifty to the city. It's a
    long, tough walk, but I can make it."
    She nodded. "The land's not bad. I went up and took a look
    at it. While it's all overland, no good roads or clear paths, it's
    mostly farmland and forest. Maybe we can hitch a ride when
    we hit the main road. They might have some kind of coach
    service or something. At least maybe we can buy another horse."
    He frowned. "Do we have enough money left for that?"
    "We do now. The kobolds decided it was their fault the
    horse died, so they gave us compensation." She went over to
    her own pack and rummaged through it for a moment, then
    reached in and pulled out a large, blackish rock. She seemed
    to have trouble with it, so he went over and took it from her,
    then almost dropped it. It was incredibly heavy.
    "What is that?"
    "Raw fairy gold," she told him. "Worth a hundred horses."
    "Well, then, let's get started, now that we're on the same
    clock."
    She laughed. "I think maybe you ought to go down to the
    JACK L. CHALKER
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    riverbank first—it's really a creek, but the water's fine. You're
    coal black from soot and ash."
    He didn't feel much like it, but he went, and he did feel a
    little better after he'd immersed himself in the cool waters for
    a while. Coming back out, he checked over his clothing. The
    belt with his great sword had come through pretty much untouched,
    but the thick loincloth he'd been wearing was stained
    and singed. He had spare loincloths, so that was no trouble.
    The sandals, though, were his only pair, and they were cracked
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    Chalker, Jack